Page 45 of The Moon's Daughter

Maybe, just maybe, she and Zarian could carve out a path forward together.

However, she was disappointed to find the training grounds empty. Frowning, she scanned the area expecting to see him walking toward her. After several minutes of waiting, she grew concerned—he had never been late.

She headed to the nearby gardens in search of him, a labyrinth of beauty and tranquility. It seemed the perfect place to find a quiet moment with him and present her gift.Maybe he’ll kiss me again, she thought wistfully.

Moonlight bathed the gardens in a soft glow, casting fleeting shadows across the stone pathways as Layna traversed the winding paths. It was a humid night, strange for the season, and the air felt heavy on her skin.

She passed the rose trellises, hoping to glimpse Zarian’s familiar silhouette among the vines. Finding no sign of him, she continued her search, heart quickening with anticipation.

She paused by a fountain, the gentle splash of water offering a moment of peace, but not the man she sought.

Layna walked through the flowers a while longer until hushed voices from a secluded arbor caught her attention.

Frowning, she moved closer, recognizing one of the voices as Zarian’s. Concerned, she crept forward with the light, silent steps he had taught her and concealed herself behind a hedge. Her heart pounded as she strained to hear their conversation.

Zarian was speaking with a cloaked figure, their conversation laced with urgency. “The prophecy, Zarian! You must remember your purpose here.” The man jabbed a finger into Zarian’s chest. “Your involvement with the princess is dangerous. It clouds your judgment! It compromises the mission.”

Layna’s breath caught. The prophecy? Her mind raced with questions. Who was this shadowed man with Zarian?

Zarian responded in a hushed whisper, too low for Layna to hear.

“That doesn’t matter! Remember your training. The princess is the key. You were brought here to protect the Daughter of the Moon, not ravish her! You’re jeopardizing everything!” The cloaked man took a deep breath. “It’s good she trusts you, but maintain your distance. I must return to the Oasis—Saahil never made it back on his last trip. I’ll return when I can.”

A chill ran down Layna’s spine as she listened to the hushed conversation. The revelation struck her like a tempest—shewas the subject of this mysterious prophecy?

Confusion and doubt swirled within her, mingling with a growing sense of betrayal. Why had Zarian never mentioned this? Who was this cloaked man? She had just begun to lower the walls around her heart, but now felt exposed and deceived.

Crouched in the shadows, disbelief, anger, and a clawing betrayal warred within her. She tried to piece together fragments of past conversations, whispers of a prophecy she had never understood.

But nothing had prepared her for this revelation.

Were the moments they shared—the intimate conversations, their passionate kiss, the quiet understanding—real, or just a part of his duty to some mission?

She had opened herself up to Zarian, shared her deepest hopes, believing in their genuine connection. Had he been manipulating her emotions for some prophetic agenda this entire time? Layna grappled with her feelings, torn between the man she thought she knew and the one ensnared in secret plots.

She quietly retreated from her hiding spot and trudged back to the training grounds. Flinging herself onto the dusty floor, she cradled her head in her hands, struggling to keep her tears at bay. How could she reconcile the man she felt so strongly for with the one shrouded in secretive discussions about her fate? How could he have held her, kissed her so intimately, while harboring such deep secrets?

To him, was she merely a mission?

A blistering anger began to burn inside her. She had been a fool to entertain the possibility of a future with him. The realization struck her with bitter clarity—she did not truly know who Zarian was.

Minutes later, Zarian arrived at the training grounds, his steps hurried. He saw Layna, her huddled figure silhouetted against the moonlight.

“Layna, what is it?” he asked, his voice laced with concern as he drew closer.

She lifted her head, revealing the storm brewing in her eyes. The silence stretched between them like a chasm. Then, in a hoarse whisper, she said, “I heard your conversation in the garden.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken accusations. The blood drained from Zarian’s face.

“Layna, please, let me explain,” he implored, stepping closer.

“I don’t want to hear any more of your lies!” Layna snapped, her temper boiling over as she shot to her feet. “Was that your spy? The prophecy, the secrets, your duty…you’re a liar, Zarian. You pretended to care just to get close to me!”

Zarian’s pale face was a canvas of pain—remorse, despair, and an unexpected vulnerability.

“Layna, please,” he begged, his voice raw, barriers stripped away. “Yes, I came here because of the prophecy, to protect you, the ‘Daughter of the Moon.’ But I didn’t know how deeply you would affect me. My feelings for you are real, Layna, as real as anything I’ve ever felt.”

His words hung in the air between them, but she only gave him her silence.

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